Our twisted tale
by we'reallfreaks
Summary: Au. Faberry. Serial killer Quinn. I am terrible at summaries so please try it. After a scarring psychological experience Quinn become a serial killer. First chapter is a prologue.
1. PROLOGUE

I do not own Glee. AU .

**Prologue.**

**You know when you search for it there is no name for it. it's a simple thing, yet it has no name. The only relatable thing is coulrophobia. Which if your are about to Google , which no doubt you will. It is a phobia of clowns. Yet there is no name for the fear of a circus, only the place in which these pitiful phoneys call home. You are now wondering why I refereed to them as phoneys. Well they are fake, they are a fake as the smiles on there dead faces. I bet your wondering why I am preaching to you about circuses. Well, when every night you are haunted my the lifeless cackles of those pasty faced fakes, you will understand. The hours I spent at the mercy of those faces. The faces which showed the real cracks of society. What horrors are out there. They are the real monsters, not the imaginary one which frolic under your bed.**

**I wake up in the same state every night. I wake up after a few measly hours of sleep. A sleep which consisted of twist and turns. Dreaming of the sneering face of those who have wronged you. Sometimes you see those who you have wronged yourself. **

**You see the faces of those you have looked in there eyes and seen them at there realist basic form. You see the life fade away. Pouring out of there body, like a river in to the ocean. Or like a thorned rose losing its petals, before its hazy death.**

**I know its wrong. I know its wrong. I am a psychopath. I know it is wrong. But I can not resist the idea of seeing the life leave the eyes of someone. There is something about seeing them at there last seconds on earth. Something about seeing the real side of somebody. The side they can hide from everyone but them selves and I. I see the things they hide from even themselves. You find out more then, than someone would know in a life time. You see who are the cowards, who beg and plead. You see those who hold there heads high. You see those who cry them selves in to a cruel and everlasting sleep.**

**You probably think I am some loner who lives out on there own. Hides in a cave with the rest of the monsters. Alas you are wrong. Highly wrong. I am in a relationship, I have a apartment. I have a job. I could be the person next to you on thee bus or even the train. I fit in to the society in which your are so free.**

**I am a regular person, well on the outside. I appear to be perfection personified. But beauty and perfection is skin deep. I am a monster. I am the thing which you lock out your life in hopes of hiding from the dark. I am the creature which is under your bed. Underneath I am an animal. But then again am I? are we not all the same. We are all the same underneath, all the skin. Within the organs. We all have organs. We all have skin. We all have blood. **

**Are we all the same? **

**Would you say that I am the same as you ?**

**Would you say I am abnormal? **

**Or am I just doing what we all wish to do? **

**I am I just seeking vengeance or am I just an animal?**

**I bet you are still wondering about the whole circus idea. Well, maybe if we shall meet I shall tell you the vicious tale, which brick by brick built me up to be the demon I am now. I never regret a thing I do. I know that I do it. I know its wrong, well I know it should be wrong. **

**What build me to be this thing I am now? … Well lets hope you never find out. Lets hope you are never hearing this tale as I reach for my scalpel .**


	2. The Devils favourite game

I do not own Glee

Chapter 1.

"Hello there honey, are you sitting comfortably ? Then lets begin, see you haven't got much time and I have a little story for us…

See I have always had this thing for myths, not that I believe them mind you, but I think they all tell you stories, they have moral messages in them. They teach you things. Or they make you, you know think.

I have a little one for you here sweetie. It's called the Devils favourite game. See there was little town in England, Bedfordshire, this story is a little old mind you. 17 th century to be exact.

The story goes a little like this, Oh don't squirm I will give the short version, the spark notes if you will. Don't worry your pretty little head. Well, not pretty.

You know Sunday is the Sabbath day, I hope you do know that. You do? Good Well ,lets begin. You are meant to keep this the day of God, he created the world in 7 days, but you are meant to always keep Sunday a day of rest and you shall scorned if you do not. There where a bunch of rouges of this town who liked to go out and drink and bet and all that jazz you know on Sunday after church. They did not heed the warnings of the vicar or the town people and every Sunday they would go out and do the same thing. There was something special about this town, the church had a separate tower. They would say this is where the Devil liked to sit and watch the towns people. One Sunday night he was watching a particular rouge, who was know for hes drunkenness, he had been a particular antagonist that day, he had laughed and mocked the church with in the facility of the very place in which he spoke. The Devil descended to where the man was, he then took him down to hell to play. Leaving nothing but a rock in the place in which the man once stood.

See the Devil, likes hes games just as much as man.

Now this is where you start wondering why I told you that. Do you not remember me hunny.? Do you really not remember me? Well, it was 10 years ago or so. Well our little story is almost a foreshadowing of you.

Let me explain. You are the rouge, I see you remember me, you remember nothing specific I expect. There where a few of us as I recall.

Well, you would be the rouge and I am simply the Devil taking you to Hell where you belong. I know it's a little to much for your small brain to handle, but you know. Let just say the we are now playing the Devils favourite game. I am taking you down to Hell. Well it will not be easy or fun, well, for you."

I make the first cut in to the cold saggy aged skin. Revelling in the squirms and screams of the man, who once was known for making laughter. And secretly know for making screams of displeasure for others including myself.

I cut him until my rage subsides to a calmer less vicious level. Hes face is nothing but muscle which I have carved up. I leave his twitching form to rest. I will sort him later, when hes large wounds to his face as well as the rest of his body stop leaking the red poison, hes body nothing short of an animals prey. Torn to piece in a rather vile and sadistic way. I wash his dirty blood off my hands as I prepare to leave. I enter the small dark and dank bath room.

I then prepare my show face, the smiling gentle face I us on the world. I smile in the mirror above the dingy sink, stained a faint pink. I smile a few times. Each time it looks more convincing and less fake. When It looks real enough I give my hands the once over, then walk in to my room change my clothes and bag them ready to burn later. I step in to the shower, the water washing away nearly all on the evidence of the violent act which just when on. I feel the hot water burn away the sins. I then get redressed.

Grab my coat and jog down the stairs and flock out in to the street with the hundreds who flock around the large centre point of the city which I live close by. Here I fit right in, you could not pick me out of a line up. I fit in to the people. The worker, the students I fit right in. You would never suspect anything unusual about me. You could not see the animalist anger which manifests with in my sick and twisted mind. The sick and poisoned mind of a 25 year old, who was once normal and average. But that was taking away from me. My innocence and naivety stolen in the night, in a place people see as happy and safe. A place where children are allowed to enjoy the amazement. But no I was denied that.

I slip in the a small coffee shop which I a block or two away, it's a small colourful shop, The colours are so bright I almost reach for my sunglasses. I immediately see the face I am looking for.

A beautiful small brunette, who skill is bright and tan. Her smile adds light to the already bright surroundings. She sees me and it immediately widens to her trade mare mega watt smile. Her chocolate hair bounces as stands up to greet me. She is my one prefect thing, in the whirlwind which is my life.

"Hey Rae." I say reaching out for my small girlfriend.

"Hey I missed you Quinn." She saying in a small innocent voice with a pout on her face.


	3. First of many

I once again do not own glee

Chapter 2.

We have a lot of first times in our lives. It's funny how we remember them all.

We have our first steps, okay so maybe we don't remember these, but that's more down to age. Mine where at home with my mom. I stood up and stepped to the kitchen.

We have our first day of school, mine I where I meet the one and only love of my life. The only person I really care about.

We have our first kiss, mine was with some black haired kid at bible camp. I know cliché right? You also never expected I would have once been religious as well. The kids name was Jimmy something. Lived up in north Carolina

We have out first time, mine was with a guy called Noah Puckerman. He was there for me. I was a cheerleader once, I had a boyfriend. But he liked the girl I'm with now, so I slept with Puck to get back at them. But later on me and Rachel became friends then more, but that story is for another day.

Now to the juicy bit, my first kill. I know I always go of on a tangent, but trust me what I say always has a point, so bare with me.

Now for the main event as cirrus folk would say. Well, my first kill was a bum. But he was not always a bum. Now don't get me wrong I did not kill a random bum, there was a reason. He was another one of those rouges. One of the people who corrupted me. Turned me in to the demon killer I am now.

This bum once had a life much like myself. He was once a jock, Nathaniel his name was or Nate for short. He was stereotypical jock down to a T. He was build like a house, a large muscled man, who did not always know his own strength. He was a large 6 and a half foot guy. He was epitome of Lennie from "Of mice and men." Large physically strong man, but mentally weak. Lets just say he was not the sharpest tool in the tool box. He was a sheep a follower. He had the mentality of one as well. He was a sheep among herders and wolfs. In a way he was not the worse guy in the pack. But he still played his part. He was the porn in a large game of chess. He was manipulated.

But he was the easiest to get to at the time. I was 20 at the time of my fist kill. I saw him begging. He had a withered and haggard face. Hes once muscular body was a pile of bone on his skeletal frame. I took him in the night after weeks of planning. I had a modified dentist chair. I sat him down after hes does of chloroform, original I know.

But I sat him down. I knew it was him as soon as I saw then eyes. He could have stopped him, Even he know it was wrong. He could have stopped then.

I had to contain my appertaining rage and wait until I could see those sorrowful eyes.

He woke a few hours later, What? With such a large body I could not have the chance of him waking up. I see his eyes widen both at the bright luminous and slightly flickering lights. (The electricity in this place is horrible) And the fact he is tied down to a chair and not in his normal door way with his box and his cat.

He looks around the room a little the was a anacondas prey would with in its confines. The leather straps work on keeping him restrained. He sees me he recognises me straight away. Well he should.

I stalk over to him the was an vulture would do before an animals final moments. I hold on to the scalpel so tight it leaves a small nick in my pale ivory skin. I then calmly start my attack on hes chest. I scrape little doodles in to his skin there not deep, but the are painful. I then drip salt water in to every small drawing in his skin till it puckers a sour red colour.

I finish him of quickly after that, I would tell you how, but to be honest I kind of blacked out. I just remember washing him blood of my hands.

Authors note: Any guesses what happened to Quinn?


	4. Only to the dead we owe the truth

I still do not own Glee.

The philosopher Voltaire said, "We owe respect to the living. To the dead we owe only truth." it's an odd quote if you look at it, but if you think about. I mean really think about it, I don't mean it's the last lesson of the day think about it. I mean when you get a crossword think about it. Its true.

Well maybe not the first bit, I would say we _tolerate _the living, we act like we are the most import things on earth. We do not respect others, we tolerate them. We owe respect to them, but we don't. give it to them. We take human life for granted. You are probably wondering when you signed up for this lecture from a serial killer. I mean your think, _oh why am I listening to her? Well when you really think about it I know more about people then most people know about people._

"_To the dead we owe only truth" This I would say is true. This is what I do. I know what I do is wrong, but at least I give them the truth. Most people think killers don't know what's wrong with them. I know exactly when and where it all went wrong. Maybe ignorance is bliss. But I know I'm crazy, I know I'm a killer, I know its wrong… But all of that doesn't matter. Like I said we all see our selves as the most important things on the earth now I am just showing that. I am seeking vengeance on those who have wronged me. I have a vendetta if you would. _

_I believe everyone is born free. Nobody is born a killer, I certainly wasn't. I believe everyone is born a clean slate and it is the things and the people in your life that make you who you are. _

_I was a perfectly normal high school girl. Sure I was a bitch, but I never had homicidal thoughts. I never though about killing. Even the sight of blood would send shivers down my spine. But now its all that consumes my thoughts and years ago that would have frightened me. But now its just a numb fact._

_There is only one thing that I can generally say I care about, one person who matters to me. _

_Rachel._

_Rachel is the one beam of light in the dark malevolent tunnel which constitutes as my life. Which was once a bright open road of opportunity. But some how I fell off course and am now stuck. I crashed and burned that's all there is to it._

_Now you are wondering what happened to make a stereotypical blonde bubbly cheerleading bitch this jaded. Well as they say "To the dead we owe only the truth." I'm going to alter this for the purpose of this. "Only to the dead we owe the truth."_

_If you are ever to really know my story, you will be on the verge of death. You will be one of my many victims. Lets hope your not._


End file.
